It was always a mere matter of time before Richmond Fontaine delivered its masterpiece, and this is it. They have broadened their palate by heading to Tucson and teaming up with the likes of Joey Burns and Howe Gelb. All of a sudden, Willy Vlautin’s irresistibly atmospheric tales of downtrodden characters in far-flung corners of America have been allowed to blossom sonically, with brass, keyboards and Paul Brainard’s brilliant pedal steel. It’s hard to describe precisely why these songs (credited this time, significantly, to the whole band) have the power to move grown men to tears, but Vlautin is one of the few lyricists whose words richly reward attentive listening. In the spoken “The Disappearance of Ray Norton,” we hear an extraordinary tale of a man who loses friends and family on account of his anti-Mexican prejudice, while musical highlights include the almost-poppy opener “Moving Back Home” and the downbeat “A Ghost I Became.“ Lovers of Post To Wire-era Fontaine will be thrilled by a couple of riffy, country classics (“Westward Ho” and “Capsized”), and there are even a couple of examples of that much-overlooked genre, the instrumental (“El Tiradito” and “Ballad Of Dan Fanta”). As for the almost unbearably melancholy final song, “Lost In This World,” well, it’s that old “grown men in tears” thing again. Everything about Thirteen Cities (JD Foster’s production, the pacing, the sequencing and the emotional content) indicates a band at the height of its inventive powers.
--Oliver Gray
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